


Recompense

by lightning and a lightning bug (spoons)



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dominance, M/M, Prison Sex, Shameless Smut, Submission, mild mild mild breath play, some angst up in here too whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoons/pseuds/lightning%20and%20a%20lightning%20bug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ninth time Thor visits Loki in prison, Loki speaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recompense

**Author's Note:**

> This was written to satisfy a request made by the incomparable [black-nata](http://black-nata.tumblr.com). This is my first time writing Thor/Loki so I apologize if the characterisation is a bit off. Oh yeah and I also don't usually write smut, so hope it's okay.
> 
> Also this was started before I saw Thor 2 so this goes with the assumption that Loki has his own cell in a separate area, and a bunch of other prisoners aren't watching him and Thor get it on.

The first time Thor visits Loki in prison, Loki doesn’t say a word.

He’s standing against the far wall, like a statue in the empty room. And like a statue, Loki shows no signs of life. He does not look tired or angry, but he does not look well rested or smug either. He doesn’t look thin or pale or guilty or broken or any of the things Thor was expecting. Perhaps hoping, if he is honest with himself.

Loki looks cold and untouched, and it fills Thor with fury.

In a sudden move he can’t quite explain, Thor raises his arm and slams his fist against the glass wall separating him from his brother. He wants to see Loki flinch, at the very least. At the most he would like to see him cower, to get down on his knees in front of Thor and finally admit that he’s been beaten.

He thought he saw it for a moment on top of Stark tower— Loki, with genuine fear and apology in his eyes, silently asking for Thor’s forgiveness. For his help. Of course, not a moment later and a cold blade was piercing Thor’s side.

This is no different. Loki doesn’t react to Thor’s blow, doesn’t look up from where he is steadily eyeing the floor. There is perhaps the tiniest curl that graces the corner of Loki’s mouth, but the second Thor thinks he has seen it it is gone.

Thor turns away in disgust. This hurts no less than a knife. He leaves the prison, and vows not to return.

***

The second time Thor visits Loki in prison, he demands the key from the guard posted outside the entrance and he unlocks the cell door and goes inside.

Loki is sitting this time, and though his hair is somewhat wild and his eyes are a little sunken, he otherwise looks perfectly composed. Thor longs to hit him.

He simply stands in front of him instead. He’s not sure exactly what he is proving, but when he stands in front of Loki and looks down at him he feels some battle is being tipped in his favour.

And that’s what it is with Loki, it’s what it always has been— a battle. In their youth it was a often a battle they fought together, whether against real foes or against the rest of the world when it reminded them of their differences. Thor, golden and strong. Loki, dark and clever. They circled one another like magnets, neither holding any pull without the other.

As they got older, it became all too easy to embrace the differences rather than fight them. The battle turned to one of brother against brother. It was a battle Thor was never going to win, because it was a battle he never wanted to fight.

Loki, on the other hand, desperately want to fight, because he wanted to lose. Thor could see it clearly now, standing above his caged brother. Loki wanted to be destroyed, and Thor was the only one who knew him well enough to do that to him.

***

The third time he visits Loki in prison, Thor puts a hand around his throat.

Loki looks a little more fragile now, cracks appearing in his stone surface. His hair is longer, tangled around his face like heavy smoke. His skin is pale, so pale it looks almost blue, and the reminder of his Jötunn heritage sends a strange thrill through Thor.

He crouches in front of Loki, unashamedly raking him with his gaze. If Loki refuses to acknowledge Thor’s presence, then Thor sees no reason to check his own behaviour. He looks at Loki the way he has surreptitiously done his whole life, only in this wide blank room he does it without shame. 

He stares at Loki like he is a piece of art, a curiosity made purely for Thor’s own study. He takes in the delicate bones of his wrists, his long, slender fingers draped so carelessly in his lap. Loki has lost weight, Thor can see it in the hollows of his cheeks and the place where his skin dips between his knife-sharp collarbones.

It is here Thor’s gaze is caught and held. There are hardly any shadows in this room, yet one seems to linger in this depression, perfectly crowning the flat expanse of Loki’s chest. Thor drags his eyes from the bruise-coloured shadow up the column of Loki’s ivory throat.

Loki has been perfectly still this whole time, staring just to Thor’s left, looking for all the world like he is entirely oblivious to the presence of anyone else in the room. Yet now, with his brother’s gaze pressing into his skin, he swallows once.

Thor’s hand shoots out and fastens itself around Loki’s neck as though he can catch that small movement. His fingers dig into cool skin, and the rush of power Thor feels is heady and intoxicating.

He won’t hurt Loki, and yet he finds himself tightening his fingers, at first just a little, then a little more. Loki doesn’t move, doesn’t alter his deliberate, distant stare, but he swallows a second time and Thor feels the motion all along his palm.

He tightens his fingers still further. He hopes he leaves bruises on Loki’s perfect skin. He wants there to be a mark, proof that Thor reached past every barrier Loki has put up and changed something, and Loki didn’t stop him.

Loki’s eyes are bright and there is a spot of colour on each cheek. Humiliation warring with pride, Thor guesses. Ignoring Thor means he also isn’t able to fight him off.

Having this kind of control over his brother is like downing an entire tankard of mead; Thor feels light-headed and invincible.

“You deserve this,” is what he wants to say to Loki as he closes his fist still tighter. Instead, what comes out is, “You need this.”

Loki gasps, a tiny sound that nonetheless seems to echo through each corner of the room. Thor chases the sound with his fingers, squeezing up Loki’s neck until he cups his jaw, brutal and demanding.

The air feels like it’s crackling with electricity, though the magic proofing on the cell prevents Thor from summoning his lightning down here. There is no power in this room that isn’t coming directly from Loki or himself.

Thor releases Loki and leaves shortly thereafter. Bruises are already starting to blossom on Loki’s throat.

***

The fourth time Thor visits Loki in prison, he puts both his hands on Loki’s throat.

***

The fifth time Thor visits Loki in prison, he leaves bruises on Loki’s wrists as well.

***

The sixth time Thor visits Loki in prison, Loki looks at him. Even when Thor was holding Loki against the wall by his wrists, squeezing until he felt the bones grind together, and Loki was panting and shaking in Thor’s grip, he never once looked at Thor.

And yet this time, the sixth time, as soon as Thor enters the room Loki raises his head and stares at him. There is such disdain in his expression that Thor momentarily blacks out. When he comes back to his senses, Loki is sprawled across the floor with a bleeding lip and Thor’s hand is clenched into a fist.

***

The seventh time Thor visits Loki in prison, he bites him.

He did not plan on doing it. He did not even plan on visiting Loki ever again, not after the last time. But Thor should have known better than to think he could stay away.

Loki is looking at him again when he enters. His expression is taunting and defiant, and Thor can read the challenge written there as surely as if Loki were screaming at him.

He drags Loki off the ground and throws him against the wall without preamble. No one ever asks him what he does down here when he visits his brother, and if they did Thor would have no answer. He can’t explain this, the force that drives him to take control over Loki’s body, over the air his breathes and the blood rushing beneath his skin. Perhaps it has been so long since either of them felt like they had control they now crave it. And with Loki imprisoned because of his crimes and Thor enslaved because he still can’t give up on his brother, this is the only way they can have it.

Thor jerks Loki’s arms above his head like he has done before, holding both wrists in a single hand. Loki continues to stare him down, even as his thin lips part and his eyes go wide. He is so slim now, his skin stretched tight and thin over his bones. Prison is taking its toll and he looks like a feral animal, poised to attack.

Thor leans in as is now his custom, and Loki doesn’t hesitate to bare his throat in anticipation of Thor’s punishing grip. But this time, Thor doesn’t use his hand. Instead, he leans in and fastens his teeth around the vein that traces the curve down the side of Loki’s neck.

Loki makes a sound, something between a whimper and the start of a scream. He starts to thrash in Thor’s hold, but without his magic and weakened by his cell he is no match for his brother’s strength. Thor bites down, feeling Loki’s blood rush beneath his skin, pump faster and faster through the vein until at last Thor breaks the surface and some of it dabs at his lips.

He pulls back, his own breathing harsh and loud in his ears. The fight is gone from Loki and he sags against the wall, looking dazed, almost drugged. Thor doesn’t think he’s ever seen Loki look like that, and the sight of him tugs at something low in Thor’s stomach. The need he feels during these visits intensifies until it becomes something else entirely, something ferocious and consuming, lighting up Thor’s insides like Surtr’s flames.

It’s too much for him to conceive of in that moment, so he leaves, but he makes sure before he does Loki gets a good look at his bloody, triumphant smile.

***

The eight time Thor visits Loki in prison, he bites him again, all over his neck and chest and stomach.

Loki lies near the crumpled shirt Thor ripped from his body, writhing and gasping and clawing at the air, but he doesn’t push Thor away.

***

The ninth time Thor visits Loki in prison, Loki speaks.

“Is it finally the day, Son of Odin?” Loki’s voice is rough and soft with disuse. Thor thinks he rather likes the sound of it, as opposed to Loki’s normal honeyed tone. Loki’s words, however, Thor does not understand.

“The day for what, brother?” 

Loki is still wearing his ruined shirt, though it has been a fortnight since Thor last was here. The fabric hangs off Loki’s thin shoulders in rags, and though Thor longs to tear it from him again he holds himself back.

“The day you finally kill me.” Loki says it like it’s nothing, his gestures fluid, his expression removed. “I would have done it myself by now, only this infernal cell prevents me.”

That’s a lie and Thor knows it. How ever desperate Loki has become, he would never take his own life. There is too much fight, too much anger, and too much stubbornness in him for that. Still, there mere thought of it fills Thor with rage, and he seizes Loki with a hard grip on his shoulders.

“Will you do it?” Loki hisses, venomous.

“Do you honestly think that is what this is about?” Thor asks, biting down on the corner of Loki’s jaw for emphasis. “You think I wish to see you dead?”

“Dead,” Loki spits. “Humiliated. What else can there be for me?”

For the first time since this began, Loki touches Thor back. He puts both hands on Thor’s chest, and he shoves.

Caught off guard, Thor stumbles backwards a few steps. Loki bares his teeth at him, wild and dangerous.

“What else can there be?” he all but screams. “What else, _brother_?”

And perhaps it is his use of that word, a word Thor hasn’t heard cross his lips for so long, now pronounced with such violence and despair, but something in Thor just… breaks.

He lunges forward and Loki flinches infinitesimally as though in spite of his taunts he doesn’t want to be hit. Thor doesn’t hit him. He seizes Loki by the back of his neck and crushes their mouths together.

It is an attack, not a kiss, and the sound Loki makes matches it, a desperate, pained whine. Thor gives into his earlier impulse and tears at the shirt covering Loki’s torso. His hands fumble, clumsy, and Loki huffs a mocking laugh against his mouth. Thor bites his lower lip in retort, then spins Loki around and shoves him face-first against the wall.

Loki doesn’t fight back, but Thor doesn’t know if it’s because of the way Thor seizes his shirt by the collar and jerks it down to his wrists, effectively trapping his arms behind his back, or for some other reason. Thor quickly divests himself of his own tunic then crowds back into Loki’s space, his chest to Loki’s back, bare skin sticking and sliding.

Thor puts his hand under Loki’s jaw and jerks his head back, pulling him into a brutal kiss. Loki’s mouth is hot and held open by Thor’s grip, but even now his silver tongue doesn’t stay still. He responds to Thor in a way that is nearly wanton, his tongue darting quick and dangerous in opposition to the way Thor plunders his mouth, rough and unyielding.

Thor leans more of his weight into his brother, and surely this must be painful for Loki, his arms trapped in his shirt, pulling his arms back while Thor presses his chest to the wall and angles his head to just where he wants it. This is what Thor has been longing for since he first brought Loki back to Asgard, this submission, this connection, where he feels like he hasn’t lost his brother, lost this very part of himself.

Thor moves from Loki’s lips to bite down his neck, and though it does draw the most delightful moans from Loki he should have known freeing his mouth was a mistake.

“Go ahead,” Loki is muttering, and though that could be encouragement it is of course yet another taunt. “Go ahead and take it.”

Loki bends forward as much as he can with Thor’s body pressing him to the wall. The movement brings the swell of his backside flush against the hard heat between Thor’s legs.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Loki snarls. “So take it. Put me down, Thor. Force me to my knees and _take your Jötunn bitch_.”

Loki clearly thinks he’s won as Thor pulls away and rips the shirt from his wrists. He raises his arms to brace himself against the wall, a bitter, vindictive grin on his face. He’s not prepared at all for Thor to spin him around, seize him by the waist and lift him into the air. Graceful even in his surprise, Loki only flails for a moment before he regains his bearing and stabs rough fingernails into the thickness of Thor’s shoulders.

“What do you think you—” he begins, but the remaining words are punched out of him as Thor drops him on the uncovered pallet in the corner. 

Loki’s quick to raise himself onto his elbows but then he freezes, caught like a stag is caught by torchlight. Only there is no torch. Loki watches Thor.

Thor drops his trousers to the ground and kicks them into a corner. Having Loki’s undivided attention like this is intoxicating, it always has been. When Thor was just reaching manhood and his muscles were beginning to bloom he would strip to the waist to practice his swordplay with Sif and the Warriors Three in the courtyards. Though never summoned, and never invited to join, Loki would always appear in the shadows of the trees, often with a book held in his hands, but even when he pretended to read Thor could feel his brother’s gaze on his naked skin, tracking each movement like a phantom touch.

This memory from their youth sends a thrill through Thor as he stalks towards Loki, utterly naked, his hardness jutting proud from between his legs. Loki’s kiss-swollen lips are parted, his breath no more than shallow hitches of his thin chest. Loki’s eyes rove Thor’s body, linger there below his stomach, but constantly flick back to his face. There is still wariness there, distrust, and Thor seeks to banish it entirely.

Loki smirks when Thor looms over him and attacks his trousers, throwing them the way of his own. Loki is no less aroused than Thor, and the sight of him makes Thor’s chest ache with a hunger he has scarcely known before.

Loki is still smirking when Thor seizes his wrists and yanks them above his head. Again, Loki is so certain of what will happen, and again, he is wrong. When Thor straddles Loki’s waist, sinking down to press their most intimate places together, Loki throws his head back and cries out.

“Let it go, brother,” Thor finds himself saying. “I want to hear you.” He rocks forward, ruthless, and Loki bites down on his lip with a whine. He tugs at Thor’s hold on his wrists, but he hasn’t a hope of finding a break in Thor’s strength. To further prove that, Thor switches to a one handed grip, using his other hand to grasp Loki’s chin and turn his head to the side, baring his throat to Thor’s mouth once more.

“Is this— oh— is this cowardice, Thor?” Loki asks, his pulse frantic beneath Thor’s lips.

“Cowardice?” Thor growls into the fragile skin stretched over a collarbone.

“That you won’t have me? Or is this— ah! Is this your way of being noble?”  
“Is that what you think this is?” Thor drags his free hand down Loki’s chest. They both shiver as his fingers catch in the spaces between his ribs.

“Think you’re not tainted if you don’t rut me like a woman?” Loki still manages to snarl, his face twisted with shame and rage. “You think that _absolves_ you? You might mock me for these desires if you don’t satisfy your own? But I don’t desire this, Thor. I don’t desire _you_ —”

Thor surges up and grabs Loki by his snarled hair, jerking his head back to put his mouth at just the right angle for Thor to delve inside with his tongue. He kisses Loki ferociously, bites his lips and consumes his mouth until Loki is nearly sobbing for air. Only then does Thor let up on his assault, though he keeps his hand in Loki’s hair, pulling taught.

“You’re not to speak,” he orders, then pauses, considering. “Unless it is to beg.”

“So you admit—” Loki begins, but quick as one of Loki’s knives Thor releases his hair and slaps him across the mouth.

“You’re not to speak,” he repeats, then leans down and breathes wet and hot into Loki’s ear. “Unless. You. Beg.”

Thor pulls back and looks at Loki, takes in his flushed cheeks, his wide, desperate eyes. Deliberately, so that Loki can see that Thor knows exactly what he’s doing, he raises two fingers. Just as deliberately, he lowers them to Loki’s lips.

“Suck,” he commands, and Loki— proud, stubborn, vicious Loki— nearly chokes himself in his haste to obey.

When Thor feels his fingers are sufficiently slick, he draws them back from Loki’s mouth, and Loki practically _whimpers_. The pressure in Thor’s groin tightens almost to an unbearable level at that sound, and the way Loki looks spread out beneath him, panting and writhing, utterly at Thor’s mercy.

And yet it is nothing compared to the way Loki looks when Thor reaches behind himself with his spit-shiny fingers and carefully pushes them inside. Loki eyes fly almost impossibly wide before they slam shut and he throws his head back, spine arching, every muscles in his neck straining.

Thor lets go of Loki’s wrists to wrap a hand around him and squeeze just to the point of pain. Loki cries out, thrashes, but then gradually comes back to himself.

“Not yet, brother,” Thor mumbles as he continues to work himself open, grunting and shifting his hips. He’s dangerously close to his own release, but he’s not letting go until he gets what he wants.  
There is still some distrust in Loki’s eyes, hiding behind the lust and the bewilderment, so Thor leans down to kiss him with his own eyes closed. He goes slow this time, almost gentle. He holds Loki in place with a hand cupping his forehead, his thighs clamped to Loki’s waist, so Loki has no choice but to lie beneath him and be subject to Thor’s deep kisses and the slow roll of his hips.

After what very well may be an eternity, Thor pulls away. His limps are heavy with pleasure, his fingers still working inside himself, his eyes half open. It isn’t until he drags his hand down Loki’s face to his chest that he realises there are tears on Loki’s cheeks.

“Loki,” Thor breathes.

“Thor,” Loki answers. The distrust is finally gone from his eyes, and in its place Thor thinks he may see infinity.

Loki draws in a shaking, broken breath. 

“Please.” The first word is slow, but it begins to build until it is nearly a scream. “Please. Oh, please, Thor, please, _please_.”

Thor takes his fingers from his own body and wraps them around Loki instead. Loki keens and thrashes, but his hands stay above his head where Thor put them, and he doesn’t stop begging for a moment.

Thor guides Loki to where he wants him and slowly, oh so slowly, he sinks down, taking Loki deep, taking him inside.

This must be Hel, Thor thinks, for it feels far too good for it to be Valhalla.

Loki continues to cry even as his moans and arches with pleasure. It’s like a dam breaking, and though normally the thought of making someone weep with his love making would be abhorrent to Thor, he finds the wetness on Loki’s cheeks to be beautiful.

This is what they need. Thor needs to feel Loki beneath him, entirely at his mercy, every sound and every action under Thor’s control. He needs to feel like he has his brother back, for if he can make Loki weep and mouth helplessly against the skin of his own shoulder, then surely he can make Loki forget his rage and all his malicious schemes. If he can draw out these sounds of pleasure from Loki, sounds that would make a concubine blush, then surely he can draw the poison from his mind.

Thor drops against Loki’s chest to kiss him frantically on the mouth, biting his lips and sucking on his tongue, desperate and demanding. He rotates his hips with agonising precision, denying them both the angle they so desperately crave. Loki is close to undone already, but Thor is going to draw this out.

This is what they need. Loki needs to held down and forced to take Thor’s affections. He needs to have no other choice but to submit to his pleasure, no option to turn it aside or deny it. He needs to feel himself inside Thor, feel the way Thor’s body opens for him. With every thrust Thor is saying _I want you_ and Loki needs to feel that in his bones, where he can’t push it away. 

Loki’s pleas have faded to quiet gasps as Thor rocks shallowly on top of him. Though he’s still trembling as though he might fly apart, Loki’s regained enough control to pull his lips from Thor’s and bite down hard at Thor’s neck.

Thor pulls away immediately, and retaliates by raising himself from Loki’s hips then dropping back down all at once, driving a moan from his own throat and a near-scream from Loki’s. He puts one hand around Loki’s neck, and braces the other against his chest. He slams down hard against Loki again, wanting to _feel_ the sound Loki makes.

After another hard downward thrust of his hips and Thor realises Loki is trying to form words.

“Never,” Loki forces out through a throat gone raw from the noises he has been making. “Never thought… you’d be… the sadist, Thor.”

Thor stills, Loki sheathed all the way to the hilt inside of him, and he looks down at his brother. He doesn’t have to repeat his rule about Loki speaking. He lets the smirk on his face— a smirk perfected after years of watching Loki— say it for him. Loki sucks in a breath, and doesn’t let it out again. Above his head, his hands claw at nothing. He tries to move his own hips but Thor’s weight holds him down. Loki can do nothing, _take_ nothing, but what Thor will give him.

Thor can see the exact moment this realisation dawns in Loki’s eyes, and that’s the moment Thor lets go.

He moves his body against Loki’s with a passion that approaches violence. Thor can feel his release building low in his stomach, his control slipping as pleasure sparks up his spine. Beneath him, Loki looks utterly wrecked, face streaked with tears, lips parted and swollen pink, dark lashes lying against flushed cheeks.

“Loki,” Thor growls. He wants Loki to open his eyes and look at him, but Loki is too far gone for that. “Loki,” Thor tries again. “Touch me.”

Loki groans, his shoulders arching off the floor. He makes a valiant effort to move his arms, but held in one position for so long they refuse to cooperate, and Loki, nearly out of his mind with pleasure, seems not to have the will to make them.

So like he has always done, Thor takes care of his brother. He reaches down with the intent of lifting Loki’s arms, but no sooner have their fingers entwined than Loki is crying out and nearly throwing Thor from his lap with the force of his release.

Thor rides it out, drawing every last drop of pleasure from Loki that he can. Loki collapses afterwards, and Thor isn’t entirely sure he’s still conscious. It’s no hardship for Thor to take himself in hand; only several strokes and he’s groaning as his release coats Loki’s chest and stomach.

Thor is careful as he eases himself off Loki, all his muscles starting to protest as he comes down from his pleasure and the real world begins to trickle back in. Loki is still nearly catatonic next to him, though he mumbles a bit as Thor reaches out to gently stroke a hand down his side.

It is a fantasy, Thor knows, this moment in which they are both perfectly sated, perfectly at peace. Loki is still imprisoned, both by the walls of this cell and his own hatred. Thor is still bound by the duties of the throne.

He can’t resist touching Loki again, however, revelling while he can in his brother’s softness and compliance. Loki comes easily into Thor’s arms and fits like he belongs, tucked against Thor’s chest. He used to lie that way as a child sometimes, when the valkyries rode through Asgard, bringing their dead with a cacophony of shrieks and storms.

Loki hated the storms more than the shrieking, and as a small boy he’d climb into Thor’s bed in the night and curl up tightly against his chest.

“I can’t make them stop,” Thor had confessed in the darkness, feeling angry and shamed, even though at that age his control of the weather was minimal at best, and limited mostly to thunderclouds whenever he threw a tantrum.

“I know,” Loki had whispered back, small hands fisted beneath his chin. “These are not your storms. That’s why I do not like them.”

Thor holds onto Loki now as he held on to him then, just a little too tightly, as if he can guard against all the evils of the world with just his embrace. Some would say one such evil is lying here breathing against his neck, but Thor knows better.

It is not long now before Thor must leave here, leave this moment and leave his pliant, resting brother. He will dress Loki to preserve his dignity, then dress himself for the same reason, yet with far more pretence. Thor will go back to walking Odin’s halls, shining with all his dignity, radiating nobility while his brother stays down here to rot.

Loki will become bitter again, full of hate and bile and sharp little barbs he stores beneath his own skin until he finds another body in which to plunge them.

A darkness will grow between them once more, unyielding and indomitable like a black hole, and like a black hole it cannot hold.

Already, Thor can feel the darkness creeping into this moment, touching its edges with cold fingers. He closes his eyes, breathes in the scent of sweat and musk and the peculiar floral scent that has always clung to Loki’s hair. This is the last thing Thor can give to them both. He can give them this moment, this brief recompense for the pain they still have to feel.

Thor closes his eyes and holds his brother. He pretends the harsh light of the prison cell is the bright morning sunlight in the gardens where they used to pick apples by the pond and Loki would make stones hover over the water. He pretends the hard pallet beneath them is simply the ground, not yet thawed from a spring frost. 

He listens to Loki’s heartbeat, and it is like his own, it is just like his own. He maps Loki’s body with his hands, feeling each line and curve. Loki sighs into his skin, and it feels like a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> If so inclined you can find me on tumblr [here](http://lightning-and-a-lightning-bug.tumblr.com/) where I generally freak out over fictional brothers and two guys who are both named Jared.


End file.
